‘What’s that?’ asked Bella. ‘I heard something.’
‘It was just the lanterns swinging in the tree,’ I said.
‘No,’ said Bella, poking behind the rowboat. ‘I heard a little cry.’
‘I heard it too,’ said Harry with excitement. ‘It came from under the jetty.’
The three of us crawled down onto the sand that led under the Beach Shack. The water lapped up under most of the boatshed, but above the high-tide mark was the soft, sandy beach. Right up where our jetty met the esplanade was a low, dark cave.
We heard the soft cry again. Some debris had washed into the cave during a storm and formed a nest made of cardboard and plastic. Huddled in the middle of the nest was a tiny black-and-white kitten with big green eyes.
The kitten spat and hissed at us, its fur standing up on end.
‘She’s frightened,’ I whispered. ‘I wonder if her mother’s nearby.’
‘Can we take her home?’ asked Bella.
‘It depends if she belongs to someone,’ Harry said.
‘She wouldn’t be living under our jetty if she belonged to someone,’ I replied. ‘She must be lost.’
‘She looks hungry,’ said Bella.
The little kitten did look thin and scrawny. I guessed that she wouldn’t have been stealing scraps from the cafe if she had a mother looking after her.
‘Here kitty, kitty, kitty…’ I called, holding out my fingers. The kitten retreated further under the jetty, hissing at us.
‘Harry, go and get some food for her,’ I said. ‘Some cheese or meat, and bring a box and a towel… I’ll stay here and make sure she doesn’t run away.’
Harry looked like he was going to argue, but then he wriggled out backwards. A moment later I could hear his footsteps thundering over head as he raced inside the cafe.
In a few minutes he crawled back with a cardboard box, a folded towel and a container of shredded chicken.
‘I asked Zoe and she said to try the chicken,’ said Harry, nearly bumping his head on the jetty above.
I lay on my stomach and held out a piece of chicken meat, holding my breath.
‘Stay really still,’ I warned. ‘Bella, don’t make a sound.’
Miraculously my little sister lay still, watching the kitten. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her be so quiet for so long.
Nothing happened.
I decided it might help if I made soft little meow noises like Trixie.
‘Meow. Meow,’ I crooned.
‘Mew,’ the kitten replied.
‘Meow. Meow,’ I crooned again.
The kitten inched forward, its little pink nose twitching. I held the shred of chicken out temptingly. At last the kitten couldn’t resist and dashed forward to snatch the morsel from my fingers. The kitten retreated to its nest and gobbled the meat. I held out another shred.
She came more quickly this time. After feeding her several scraps, I caught hold of the kitten. She struggled and hissed, trying to scratch me. Harry passed me the towel, and I quickly wrapped her up and popped her inside the cardboard box.
We crawled out and took her up to the cafe.
Mum and Zoe were in the kitchen.
‘Look, we found the cafe thief,’ I said. ‘Or should I say, we’ve found the kitty-cat burglar!’ We all crowded around the box.
‘She’s soooo cute,’ said Bella.
Mum opened the lid of the box and peeked in. The kitten had escaped from the towel and looked up at us with big green eyes. She mewed pitifully.
‘So this is the little waif who’s been stealing our food,’ said Zoe, with a laugh. ‘She is utterly divine.’
‘Such a little scrap of a thing,’ said Mum. ‘Where did you find her?’
We told Mum the story about the stolen cheese and searching for the culprit.
‘She looks like she’s either lost or abandoned,’ said Mum. ‘We’d better take her to see the vet.’
‘Can’t we keep her, Mum?’ pleaded Bella.
‘Yes. Yes. Pleeease,’ begged Harry.
Mum gazed at the three of us as we jiggled up and down with excitement. Then she looked at the kitten with its huge, frightened green eyes.
‘She may have an owner who is terribly sad that she’s lost,’ said Mum.
‘But we rescued her,’ I said. ‘She might have died if we hadn’t found her. Look how skinny she is.’
‘Let me ring Caitlin and we’ll see what she says,’ said Mum.
Mum rang the vet hospital and Caitlin told us to bring the kitten down straight away. Of course Harry, Bella and I all insisted on coming along, so Mum left Zoe to finish closing up while we were gone.
Willow was sitting at the front desk in the waiting room when we arrived. Willow took a quick peek at the kitten cowering in the cardboard box in Mum’s arms. Then she showed us in to see her mum in the consulting room.
Caitlin took the little kitten out of the box and examined her. The kitten hissed and spat.
‘Her little heart is beating so fast,’ said Caitlin, gently stroking the kitten’s head. ‘She’s frightened of us.’
Caitlin worked quickly and efficiently to treat the kitten without scaring her too much. She weighed her and listened to her heartbeat with a stethoscope. Mum made sure we stood well back so we didn’t crowd the tiny patient.
‘Judging from her size, she’s about seven weeks old, but very underweight, so our first job is to feed her up,’ said Caitlin. ‘It’s lucky you found her when you did. She’s half-starved.’
I felt a wave of sorrow for our little kitten – left hungry and all alone.
Caitlin scanned the kitten to see if she had been microchipped but there was nothing there. ‘How long do you think she’s been stealing scraps from the cafe?’ she asked.
‘Since at least Friday,’ I said. ‘That’s when she stole Zoe’s sandwich.’
‘We haven’t had anyone call us to report a missing kitten,’ said Caitlin. ‘So I’d say she’s been abandoned.’
‘Who would abandon a tiny kitten?’ I asked, feeling horrified.
‘You’d be surprised, Pippa, how thoughtless people can be,’ said Caitlin. ‘Some people just can’t be bothered to look after their animals properly. In any case, I think we can safely assume this little one doesn’t have an owner.’
Caitlin explained that she would put up a notice in the vet hospital in case anyone had lost her.
‘So now we need to decide what to do with her,’ said Caitlin. ‘The kitten needs to be kept in a warm, secure crate for a couple of days and fed frequently until she gets used to having people around. Then she needs to be socialised with lots of cuddling, snuggling and playing every day so she becomes a gorgeous pet instead of a wild feral cat.’
I imagined snuggling and cuddling with our very own pet kitten. I couldn’t think of anything better.
Caitlin looked at Mum, then at each of us. ‘I could keep her here at the vet hospital and try to find a good home for her,’ she offered.
‘Can’t we look after her, Mum?’ I begged. ‘Please. She would have died if we hadn’t saved her.’
‘We can pay for her food and medicine,’ said Harry. ‘You can have all my pocket money.’
‘And mine too,’ said Bella. ‘Please, Mum?’
The kitten mewed, making Mum burst out laughing. ‘What chance do I have when all four of you are looking at me with those big hopeful eyes? All right, we can take her home.’
Harry, Bella and I jumped up and down, squealing with delight, until the kitten hissed and reminded us that she wasn’t used to humans, especially noisy kids.
Caitlin explained everything that we needed to do. She loaded us up with a secure kitten crate, bedding, water and food bowls, special kitten food and lots of instructions.
‘Try to keep her crate somewhere up high so she can hear and see everything that’s going on,’ said Caitlin. ‘And then she’s safe from your mischievous Summer as well.’
‘We need to think of a really special name for
her,’ I said.
‘Blackie,’ said Bella. ‘Or Shadow.’
Too obvious, I thought.
‘Morgana,’ said Harry. ‘Or Guinevere.’
Too fancy, I thought.
‘How about Winter?’ said Mum. ‘Then we’d have sunny Summer and stormy Winter?’
None of those names seemed to suit our super-cute, tiny scrap of a cat. I thought back to the clues that had helped us find her. The smudges of mango paw prints and the sneaky way she stole food.
‘How about Smudge?’ I said. And somehow Smudge was the name that stuck.
Back home in the caravan, we fed Smudge some tinned kitten food from a spoon. Caitlin said we shouldn’t handle her much for the first two days, which was torture. All of us wanted to cuddle her and make a fuss of her. But Mum was firm. If any of us broke the rules, Smudge would have to go back to the vet hospital. We made her a comfortable nest and set her kitten crate up on top of the dining table so Summer couldn’t reach her.
I crawled into bed, my head buzzing with everything that had happened. It had been the worst day, and yet the best day. The audition had been a disaster, but finding Smudge had been a wonderful adventure. I couldn’t wait to tell Charlie and Cici and Meg at school tomorrow. But that reminded me that Charlie was still cross with me about the audition. Maybe the news of our stray kitten Smudge would win her over?
In the morning I fed Smudge her breakfast from a spoon. Caitlin had said that feeding her from a spoon would encourage her to associate good things (yummy food) with kind humans (us). It also meant she couldn’t gobble down her food too fast. We weren’t allowed to feed her with our fingers because that might encourage her to bite us (ouch!).
It seemed to be working because Smudge didn’t seem quite so quaky.
Summer was absolutely fascinated by our new visitor. While I fed Smudge, Summer sat on my foot with her tongue hanging out, begging for a taste. Summer had obviously decided that Smudge’s breakfast looked far more delicious than her own.
‘I’ll take Smudge to work with me so I can feed her during the day,’ said Mum, packing up a bag of kitten food and bowls. ‘She can stay in the crate at the cafe. That will help her get used to people and noise.’
‘I can take the day off school to look after her,’ I said helpfully. ‘Mimi and Papa will be here.’ I would have loved to stay home to look after Smudge, but the truth was I was nervous about seeing Charlie, Cici and Meg at school in case they were still upset with me. And I was worried that the other kids would still be laughing at my microphone juggling skills. Staying home with Smudge was definitely a better idea.
‘No way, young lady,’ said Mum with a laugh. ‘Mimi and Papa have enough to do looking after Summer without adding a crotchety cat to the mix. And you need to go to school.’
‘Nice try,’ Harry said, smirking at me over his breakfast bowl. I pulled a face back at him and closed the door of the crate.
For today and tomorrow, Smudge would stay snug in her crate with lots of little meals to fatten her up. We could gradually start snuggling her on Thursday and then on Friday she could start exploring.
The distraction of Smudge made us all run late, so Mimi drove us to school for a change. In the playground I found the others near the big tree. It was already hot and steamy. I could feel a trickle of sweat running down my back.
Cici and Meg called hello. I answered a bit awkwardly.
‘Are you feeling all right, Pippa?’ asked Meg, looking at me with concern.
‘I’m fine,’ I said.
Charlie looked away. It seemed she was still upset with me about not trying yesterday.
I thought about Alex and his unexpected apology and how it made me feel better.
‘Sorry about mucking up the audition yesterday,’ I said, feeling ashamed. ‘I was just so nervous. And when I dropped the microphone I felt like such an idiot…’
‘That’s okay,’ said Meg. ‘You couldn’t help it.’
Meg’s kindness made me feel a little better.
‘I didn’t sing up there and I should have at least tried,’ I admitted. ‘I thought I’d just make everything worse. But now I feel terrible, because I know how much it meant to all of you.’
‘It was bad luck going after Tash’s accident,’ said Cici. ‘That threw all of us off. None of us sang as well as we could have.’
Charlie thought for a moment, playing with the end of her plait. She shrugged, then gave me a crooked half-smile. ‘You’re right. We were all pretty awful.’
I gave an inward sigh of relief. It looked like I’d been forgiven.
‘In other news,’ I said, changing the subject, ‘we’ve discovered who the cafe thief is. And she’s absolutely adorable.’
‘Really?’ asked Cici, immediately curious. ‘Who was it?’
‘A tiny black-and-white kitten. We’ve called her Smudge,’ I replied.
I told the girls the story of apprehending the kitty-cat burglar under the boatshed. They all asked questions and by the time I had finished telling them the story, all the awkwardness had been forgotten.
‘So now you have one mum, three rambunctious kids, one mischievous puppy and a thieving kitten living in your caravan?’ joked Charlie. ‘Now that’s chaos!’
I grinned broadly. ‘At least Bella isn’t practising her dino romp anymore.’
Charlie was back to her normal, joking self. What a relief! No one likes falling out with their best friends.
We drifted over to hang with the other year fives under the big tree.
‘Do you know how Tash is?’ asked Alex.
Olivia, Jemila, Willow and Sienna all looked super-gloomy.
‘She won’t be coming to school today,’ said Jemila.
‘I heard she’s been flown to a hospital on the mainland,’ said Rory.
‘Really?’ asked Cici. ‘That’s awful.’
‘No, she hasn’t,’ said Willow. ‘The doctor just wants her to stay at home for a couple of days.’
‘That’s such a shame,’ I said. ‘Will she be okay?’
Olivia bit her lip. ‘The doctor said nothing is broken, which is the good news, but the really bad news is that Tash won’t be able to do any gymnastics for at least six weeks. She strained her knee.’
‘Oh no,’ said Meg. ‘Poor Tash.’
Sienna sighed deeply. ‘And that means that we can’t perform at the concert on Friday.’
‘We can’t have the Fabulous Five with only four gymnasts,’ explained Willow.
‘Couldn’t you adapt your routine?’ I asked. ‘Maybe you could be the Fabulous Four?’
Olivia tossed her ponytail in disgust. ‘It’s obvious you don’t do gymnastics. The routine wouldn’t work without our star gymnast and we don’t have enough time to change it. It takes weeks of rehearsal to get it perfect. We’re going to have to pull out.’
I bristled at Olivia’s snarky tone, but then I realised that she wasn’t trying to be mean to me. She was just upset about Tash. We all were.
At recess, I spotted a rather surprising visitor in the playground. It was Mrs Beecham, hobbling out of the school office. I raced over to say hello.
‘Hello, Pippa dear,’ said Mrs Beecham, leaning on her stick. ‘I’m pleased you saw me. I’d like to talk to you about something.’
Mrs Beecham looked serious, which made me feel rather nervous. Had I done something wrong?
‘Did you enjoy the talent quest auditions yesterday?’ I asked.
‘That’s what I want to speak with you about,’ she said. ‘Mrs Marshall has informed me that the gymnastics troupe can no longer perform on Friday because of Tash’s injury.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘The girls told us this morning.’
Mrs Beecham looked around the playground as kids raced past, screeching and hooting.
‘I’m not much of a gymnastics fan,’ confessed Mrs Beecham, ‘though I really loved the dancing component of their act. But if the girls can’t perform, I think that you and your friends should take thei
r place.’
I shook my head, thinking of what a terrible ordeal the audition had been. Mrs Beecham ignored my protest.
‘You were the runners-up,’ she said. ‘Mrs Marshall felt that your performance was significantly disadvantaged by coming after Tash’s accident. She told Mr Tzantzaris and I that she saw you all rehearsing a few days ago and you did a marvellous job.’
I felt hot with embarrassment. ‘It was me who let the girls down. I had terrible stage fright.’
Mrs Beecham leaned towards me and patted my hand. ‘I saw you girls sing at the cafe a couple of weeks ago, and it was lovely,’ she said. ‘I told the judges I had full faith that you could do a magnificent job for the VIP concert.’
This very rare praise from our crotchety neighbour was a thrill. However, being Mrs Beecham, there was definitely a ‘but’…
‘Nevertheless, you’d need to do a lot of work by Friday,’ she told me sternly. ‘The singing would need to be a lot stronger than what we saw yesterday, and you all need to work on your stage presence. It was quite static, so perhaps some choreography and some colourful costumes would help.’
I thought for a moment. Did I want to perform again after the humiliation of making a fool of myself on stage? What if I dropped the microphone a second time? Or fell off the stage like Tash?
Some of my fear must have shown on my face. Mrs Beecham’s expression softened.
‘You mustn’t let negative thoughts crowd your mind, Pippa, or you’ll talk yourself into failing,’ said Mrs Beecham. ‘Think about all the wonderful things about performing. Think about having fun with your friends and making the concert enjoyable for all the children at school.’
‘Maybe,’ I said hesitantly. ‘But I don’t want to make an idiot of myself again. I don’t want the other kids to laugh at us.’
Mrs Beecham dismissed my concern with a little huff and a wave of her hand.
‘Better people think that you tried hard than that you couldn’t be bothered to try at all,’ she said. ‘The difference between doing something badly and doing something well is just practice.’
Mrs Beecham had told me something like this before when I had been struggling to learn the steps in Miss Demi’s dance class. I had taken some of her advice then and it had definitely helped me. Maybe she was right again? The judges were giving us a second chance. I imagined how excited Cici and Charlie would be. I felt I owed it to my friends to try.
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